I'll see you when I fall asleep
by seaweed-crackerjacks
Summary: Quinn. Santana. Together at Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury's wedding. Quinn has always wondered what it would be like to be with a woman... and she gets her chance (but with the wrong brunette). *More info on the inside. Please check it out.*


I know this is mostly a Quinn/Santana fic (it's actually pretty much ALL Quinn/Santana) but I tagged it as Quinn/Rachel because Quinn was motivated by her feelings for Rachel. (If this is a problem please tell me. I will fix the pairing.)

I do want to say that this is firstly a Quinn fic, then Quinn/Rachel, and then Quinn/Santana.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee, its characters, or anything. I do own myself though.

* * *

You've always wondered what it would be like to be with a woman.

A woman.

But when you imagined it, you never pictured Santana, or Brittany, or some faceless woman. No, you've always imagined Rachel.

Rachel with her sweet face, her different yet striking features, her brown silky hair, her hands that are not at all mannish, her melodic voice (which you could only imagine would make the most arousing noises) coming out of those soft, plump lips.

You've always wondered what it would be like to be with a woman. (Rachel.)

But you're here at Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury's wedding, with Santana. And you're both tired of relationships, and being alone - lonely. And you both have fake I.D.s and alcohol coursing through your bodies (but not enough to throw judgement off).

And you see Rachel, with Finn. You see her laughing and smiling and dancing and having fun... And she hasn't noticed you yet, and if she has, she hasn't done anything to approach you (and that sucks and it hurts).

So you're with Santana at the bar, watching everyone (you: Rachel; Santana: Brittany) and everything aches but the alcohol is helping (and making you flirty – maybe you're just tired of being alone - lonely).

Before you know it, you're complimenting her, telling her things that only the help of alcohol would allow and she's looking at you like you're crazy but she just takes it all in stride (and you're grateful).

You two dance during Rachel and Finn's song and your heart and back aches. So you lean closer to Santana, telling her how you've always wondered what it would feel like to dance with a woman (and how you like it, a lot) and Santana smiles because she knows.

Santana casually mentions having a room in the hotel (and you want to ask why but you already know: Brittany; but she's dancing with Sam in front of the both of you and has hardly said anything to you or Santana) and you pull away a bit to see her face and you nod. She smiles, grabs your hand and pulls you away from the dance floor towards the exit and your heart is going crazy in your chest.

You've always wondered what it would be like to be with a woman... And you're getting your chance (but with the wrong brunette).

You and Santana laugh as you press your back against the wall, pulling her to you and you're pretty sure she is going to kiss you but she rolls away and drags you down the hall towards your room.

Santana opens the door and you both fall in, laughing (you because you're afraid; Santana because, well, you suppose the same reason). Santana pushes you down on the bed and straddles you and you can't help but tense. But she leans down and kisses you softly and you want to yell, push her away (because she's not Rachel) but you don't. You want this. So you lean up into the kiss, placing your hands awkwardly on her waist and she hums into your mouth.

You feel yourself start to relax and she's pushing her hands through your hair and you never imagined anything feeling so good.

From that moment on, everything speeds up and slows down at the same time. Before you know it, your clothes are off and so are her's. You're both naked, skin-on-skin, and it's exhilarating. It's different. It's nice and hot; arousing.

You feel Santana's hands lower down your body and you shiver all over. She smirks against your neck, biting, licking, sucking. You suck in a breath, harsh, when her fingers slide through your wetness.

You hear her '_mm_' and you're moaning, or maybe she is, or maybe you both are.

And you're gasping, moaning, groaning, grunting out her name (or you hope so, because you feel like you hear a 'Ra' sound). But if you did, Santana doesn't stop or say anything (and, again, you're grateful).

You're lying on your back, hair disheveled, cheeks flushed. Santana is lying on her side, leaning on her elbow, head resting on her hand, smiling at you.

You tell her that you're glad college women experiment, that you tried this. She smiles and agrees, thanking God that they do. You smile – at least, you think you do – and look up at the ceiling.

Santana gives you an out, letting you leave the room first, if you wanted. And you're ready to accept that but then she asks if you want to make this a two-time thing. You take a drink of water, playing with the opening of the water bottle with your mouth as you contemplate.

When she sees your smile as you put the bottle aside, she smiles too.

You've always wondered what it would be like to be with a woman (Rachel).

So when you lean toward Santana and capture her lips in a kiss, you imagine Rachel. You imagine what her mouth would feel like (heavenly) against yours; what sounds her lips would make (earth-shattering) against yours; what her tongue would taste like (eye-blinding) in your mouth; what her hands would feel like (arousing) all over your body. Everything; you imagine everything and you can't catch your breath.

Santana's mouth leaves wet kisses all over your body and you can imagine Rachel's hot breath, making your body break out in goosebumps.

You can feel her name on the tip of your tongue, trying to scratch its way out but you bite your tongue, hard. You feel Santana tense above you, and you already know.

'Rachel, huh?' Santana mutters.

You keep your eyes closed, because Damn It, you were so close.

'I'm sorry,' you whisper, and you hate how fucking broken your voice sounds. 'I'm so sorry,' you say again, and you mean it because this fucking sucks.

'I get it.' You hate how far away she sounds.

'Do you?' You know she does.

Santana huffs and laughs bitterly, and it hits hard against your ribs. 'Yeah, Q. I do.'

You nod because you don't trust your voice (and you're pretty sure it doesn't trust you). You don't know if she notices your nod, but you can't bother to speak.

'How long?' Santana asks after a long moment of silence.

You start at her voice but quickly inhale, exhale. You want to ask what she means but you're tired. 'She has...' You start but Santana sighs loudly. 'I want to say since junior year, but it might have been before that.' You know it's before that.

The bed shifts and you feel Santana lie next to you. 'I'm sorry,' you tell her again.

'I know...' Santana sighs (and it sounds awfully bitter).

'I didn't mean to... I thought I held it in.' You can't help but explain.

'I know.' And her voice sounds hard, so you bite your tongue again. Hopefully it works this time.

'Wanna talk about it?' She sounds hesitant but caring, nonetheless.

You don't say anything for a while, gathering your thoughts. You hear Santana's breathing even out and you think she's asleep but her hand intertwines with yours, reassuring.

'She means a lot to me... A lot more than I ever imagine she could.'

'Do you like her?' You think this is a silly question considering what just happened but you answer anyway.

'More than I thought I would ever like anyone.'

'Have you – do you want to tell her?'

You remember the day of Regionals, after you performed, after you spoke with Coach Sylvester and she gave you back your position on the Cheerios, and your uniform.

You remember wearing it, feeling strong, brave.

You remember seeing Kurt and Blaine. Blaine telling you that you look good. You remember smiling.

You remember how hard and fast your heart started beating at the sight of Rachel in front of you.

You remember calling out her name. And the smile on her face when she turned around and saw you.

You remember talking to her, how she seemed a bit hesitant.

You remember asking about the song she sang, if she sang it to Finn – and _only _Finn.

You remember how extremely hesitant she looked, how she could barely even nod her head. Like, if she moved anymore than that, she would break you (and she's right).

You remember how hard your heart constricted and how the burning behind your eyes spread out through your body, filling you with something you can't help but describe as bereavement.

You remember telling her how you want to support her – reluctantly saying you wanted to support her with Finn – and the huge, relieved smile on her face.

You remember her arms around you as she hugged you tightly, happily. Glad that you are there for her. And all the pain in your body slowly breaking you apart.

You tell all this to Santana, tears stinging your eyes, her hand squeezing yours until the tears spill out.

'I'm pretty sure I love her, Santana.'

And she laughs lowly, 'Pretty sure?'

'It's the best I can do without completely falling apart.' You hope she understands.

She does.

'I know.' And she places a soft kiss to your cheek and you can't help but sob.

This wasn't supposed to happen. This was a mistake (the second time because you let your feelings take control).

You and Santana lie there until the party is long over and everything is cleaned up.

You think of Rachel. You think about her smile and her eyes and the way they shined tonight. You wish you could have been the one to make them do that.

You wonder where she's at: is she in the hotel, in a room of her own... with Finn? Your stomach flips at that thought. You wonder if (and hope that) she's not here, that she's gone home to New York.

You wonder if you should use your pass to visit her (you know that'd be unwise).

'It might make you feel better, you know, if you admit it.' Santana whispers into the dark.

You know. 'I know.'

Silence. So much silence. It is suffocating.

'I love her.' And it fucking hurts. It hurts everywhere. Even the bed hurts.

'Again.' Santana demands softly.

'I love Rachel.' And it's barely audible. It barely makes its way out between your gasps of breath and sobs.

'I love her so much... I just might implode and explode at the same time.'

Santana laughs, and it's sad and understanding and broken.

'I completely understand.' She says, and you know.

You both lie there, waiting for sleep to come but it never does.

The pain has subsided and you feel lighter. You feel a little free because of it. And you can't help but wonder if Rachel will ever know (or if she already does?).

You've always wondered what it would be like to be with a woman.

(You'll always wonder what it would be like to be with Rachel.)

* * *

**A/N**: This is, obviously, my first Glee fic.

I'm not really sure about this, but hey, I kind of like.

I'd really like to know what you thought; that'd be really great.

Thanks for reading.


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